


it was probably for the best

by marshmallownose



Category: House of Anubis
Genre: 4+1 Things, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, S2 Setting, joy you cock block, my other late submission for peddiesweek, the most basic format ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallownose/pseuds/marshmallownose
Summary: ... orthe four times eddie tried to kiss patricia, and the one time she kissed him
Relationships: Eddie Miller/Patricia Williamson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	it was probably for the best

**_\- the first time ..._ **

The first time Eddie almost kissed Patricia, there was music pumping and the lights were dimmed.

Somehow, someway, he’d managed to get her out on the dance floor, and the one dance she’d insisted on somehow turned into two, three, four. She was laughing, eyes crinkled as Eddie twirled her under his arm. The light caught her face just right, and suddenly he felt his heart drop directly into his stomach.

_No,_ he thought desperately, _you do not have a crush on Patricia. You don’t do crushes, it’s not how you roll. You flirt and move on; don’t get attached—_

He accidentally stepped on her foot, and she yelped in surprise, stumbling into him. He steadied her with two hands on her arms, and Patricia looked up directly into his face, eyes wide.

Suddenly he couldn’t feel his hands, and every nerve felt like TV static, caught up in her eyes. He started to lean in, and Patricia didn’t stop him, watching Eddie get closer and closer like a deer caught in headlights. His nose only just brushed hers when she jerked away, laughing nervously.

“You really do have two left feet, you know,” she said, and Eddie just smiled awkwardly.

It was probably for the best, he told himself, trying to ignore the guilt and the _something else_ that chewed on his insides. The whole thing was a bet anyway.

* * *

**_\- the second time ..._ **

The second time Eddie almost kissed Patricia was during detention—one of the many detentions Patricia had somehow gotten him roped into.

The heaping pile of manure was literally steaming, and for once the two of them were in total agreement.

“This shit blows,” he muttered under his breath, while Victor smugly explained their punishment.

Patricia tried to laugh, but ended up gagging on the smell. “Literally,” she replied.

“Once you have finished spreading this all on the flowerbeds, you may return to your lessons,” Victor said, turning to them with a shit-eating grin—no pun intended.

“This is a joke, right, Victor? Like _‘ha-ha good one’_ , yeah?”

Victor’s smile turned almost serene, and Eddie could tell this was bordering on an inside joke between them as they both recited the same line, _“I don’t make jokes.”_

As Victor walked away, Eddie reluctantly picked up a shovel and held it out to her, but she shook her head. “I’m not doing it,” she told him flatly, and her bottom lip stuck out in a sort of faux-pout that Eddie really did not want to find cute. “Everyone has their limits, a line they must draw in the sand.”

“Or the manure,” he pointed out, and Patricia laughed through her nose. He swung the shovel back and forth, not breaking eye contact. “Come on,” he coaxed her, and he could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to stand her ground. Finally she caved and snatched the shovel from him.

“Alright,” she groaned, and Eddie rolled his eyes. She could really be so petulant.

They worked for a while in silence, but it wasn’t a tremendously uncomfortable silence. In fact, it was quite the opposite; despite the disgusting work, they worked together undeniably well.

“You know,” Eddie said after a while, “it’s not that bad.” Her incredulous stare prompted him to explain. “Y’know, the exercise, the fresh air—“

“Uh, it’s not exactly _fresh,_ though, is it?” Patricia jostled her shovel, and a little piece of manure landed on her tights. “Ew,” she said, upper lip curling in disgust, “gross.”

Eddie saw his chance and took it without hesitation; while Patricia stood unbalanced, he gently nudged her toward the pile of shit. She stumbled, catching herself from falling in face first on the tips of her toes. Still, she couldn’t save her shoes, and they squished unpleasantly in the fertilizer.

“What?!” she exclaimed, backing away immediately. “Why would you—? You’re _so—!”_

“What? It’s a perfectly legitimate practical joke considering the circumstances,” he said, gesturing toward the manure as though it somehow justified it. “I mean, it’d be a crime not to.”

“But these,” Patricia said, lifting up a boot that was now smeared with fertilizer, “are my baddest shoes.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again. Like he said: petulant. “Fine,” he relented, because he did kind of feel bad … just a little bit. “I’ll fix it.” He walked over to the wheelbarrow where a few hand-towels sat in the grass. “‘Baddest shoes’,” he muttered, making sure he was loud enough for her to hear. “Can’t take a joke…”

He saw her shadow too late, and was suddenly sent careening toward the ground. It was all perfectly fine, though—the steaming pile of shit broke his fall.

Her laughter cut through his shock, and despite how utterly repulsive it was to be sitting in poop in his school clothes, her laugh really did make him a little less mad.

“Oh, by the way, you’ve got something just there,” she said suddenly, rushing toward him and poking a finger into his chest. Instinctively—stupidly—he looked down and he was almost instantly flicked in the nose.

She giggled again, doubling over on herself, and Eddie just couldn’t stay mad.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get even, though.

Fighting a smirk, he put on as serious a tone as he could muster and reached out a hand. “Um, actually, could you help me up?” With the other hand, he scooped up a generous handful of shit.

Still laughing, Patricia shook her head. “Hell no! You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t dare actually throw that at me— _AH!”_

He leapt to his feet and charged, but Patricia was already running away, her peels of shrieking laughter only increasing, now joined in by Eddie.

Eventually she began to slow down, bent over with a stitch in her side, and Eddie aimed for her lower back so he didn’t get it in her hair. The manure met its target and she stumbled to the ground, shoulders shaking, and flopped over onto her back.

“You’re so annoying,” she said, but there was a smile on her face, like she didn’t care that her ass was currently covered in fertilizer. Then again, he didn’t exactly find himself caring that his entire back was covered either. Must have been the company.

When it was clear she wasn’t getting up for a minute, Eddie took a risk and laid down beside her. It was a nice day and the sun was warm on his face. He turned his head to the side, but found her already looking at him. Their faces were surprisingly close together, and there she was again, with that uncertain, deer-caught-in-the-headlights gaze. He angled his head closer, almost certain he saw her tilt in as well, but suddenly a grin split her face in two.

“You’ve got shit on your face,” she crowed in delight, but Eddie didn’t miss the panic in her eyes nor the aborted attempt at intimacy.

It was probably for the best, he told himself, as he swiped a clean part of his arm across his cheek, nose wrinkling in disgust when he felt it smear. Who the hell wanted to kiss while they were literally covered in feces?

* * *

_**\- the third time ...** _

The third time he almost kissed her was during a game of football—the good old-fashioned American pastime version, and, in Eddie’s opinion, the only type of football that mattered, thank you very much.

Of course, Yacker disagreed—at first.

But by the fifth round of being tackled and doing her own fair share of tackling, Eddie was positive she’d warmed up to the sport if the grin he could see beneath her helmet was anything to go by.

They were calling it quits, though, because as fun as it was to take out any pent up aggression on another person, they were both starting to feel a little sore.

Eddie took his helmet off, and noticed that Patricia was having a bit of trouble.

“Need help?” Eddie offered, starting toward her.

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just a little jammed.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and batted her hands away from the chinstrap, ignoring her half-hearted protests. “Damn, you’re right,” he said, squeezing the piece of plastic as tightly as he could without risk of pinching her skin. “It _is_ stuck.”

“Thank you, genius,” she deadpanned. “I most definitely needed a big, strong man like you to tell me something I already knew.”

“Well, if I’m big and strong...” Eddie squeezed the buckle again and Patricia hissed in pain when it caught the sensitive skin under her chin. It popped open reluctantly, and she immediately lifted the helmet off her head.

Eddie half-expected it to be like in movies where her hair would flow majestically behind her as she took it off, and she’d look radiant.

That was not what happened. She wasn’t radiant, she was sweaty. And her hair was so frizzy it looked more like she’d been electrified than played a few rounds of tackle football.

For some reason that Eddie couldn’t really explain—(yes he could)—he liked it much better.

“Um, doofus?” Her voice snapped him back into focus and he realized his fingers were still resting under her chin.

His first instinct was to jerk them away, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow the impulse. Instead he smiled down at her. “Does it still hurt?” he asked.

Patricia said nothing for a moment, just looked at him. Her eyes flickered down to his mouth for the barest of instanced, and Eddie took that as his cue.

Cautiously, like he was trying not to spook a frightened deer, he tilted her head up with the fingers he still had under her chin.

Patricia’s breath hitched as he got closer, and closer. It was only when they could feel each other’s breath that Patricia jerked away suddenly, thumbing the underside of her chin. “Yeah,” she snapped, but Eddie didn’t miss the hoarseness in her voice, “it _does_ still hurt, weasel.”

He sighed, but dutifully reassumed his role in their game of push and pull. “There’s not even a mark; you’re just sensitive,” he fired back.

She wrinkled her nose at him and stuck out her tongue, but Eddie could see the gratitude in her body language that he hadn’t mentioned what had nearly happened.

It was probably for the best, he told himself at the dining table later as Patricia’s eyes went wide and panicked as she felt around her neck. He’d clearly hurt her a bit more than he’d thought.

* * *

_**\- the fourth time ...** _

The fourth time was also in detention.

Victor had them polishing silver this time, and quite frankly Eddie hadn’t even know there was that much silver in the entirety of the UK, let alone Anubis House.

Whatever, but one would think that after cleaning everyone’s muddy shoes with a q-tip and shoveling manure, the punishment would be over.

But no, here they were, Eddie and Patricia, polishing every cup and candlestick known to mankind. It was mind-numbingly boring, and Eddie found himself zoning out more than once throughout the process.

Though, he noticed, not as much as Patricia seemed to be zoning out. She stared straight ahead, her eyes cloudy and wide open, and she picked up the bottle of silver polish and sprayed the air just beside the pitcher she was rubbing down.

His brow furrowed and he asked her, “Um, Patricia, are you okay?” He hesitated when her eyes didn’t focus in on him at all. “Can you see?”

She didn’t even turn her head toward him as she scoffed. “What? Yes, of course I can.”

Eddie, being the gentleman he was, decided to drop the subject, and went back to his task … that is, until Patricia’s searching hand groped around the table till she managed to grab an apple. With the confidence of a toddler trying to climb the stairs, she spritzed the apple with the silver polish, and now Eddie really couldn’t let it go.

“And now you’re polishing fruit,” he informed her, and she froze, her eyes still wide, unseeing, and practically unblinking. It was equal parts funny and disconcerting. “You really can’t see, can you?”

Finally she turned toward him, but she wasn’t really looking at him, rather just past him. “Okay, maybe I’m not exactly twenty-twenty,” she conceded. Eddie began testing just how blind she was, bobbing his head around and waving in what should have been her field of vision. “It’s just an eye-infection,” she continued nonchalantly, oblivious to Eddie’s shenanigans. “I’ve had it before.”

“Can you see anything?” Eddie asked. “Can you see me?”

For what seemed like the first time, Patricia shut her eyes, really screwing them shut before opening them wide. Eddie watched, fascinated as her pupils began widely trying to adjust and process any visual information. After a tense moment, Patricia reported that, “I can see, like, a massive, blurry blob.”

He laughed, and placed a hand over his heart. “Yacker, I think that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She laughed too, and her smile was enough to prompt him to push his luck.

“Well,” he edged a little closer, making sure his movement was loud enough for her to hear, “can you see me now?”

Patricia wasn’t stupid; she knew what was happening, he could see it in the set of her jaw. She shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe you’re a little bit less blurry?” she suggested.

“Oh?” Eddie smirked, knowing that was her way of an invitation. He scooted closer, and put an arm over the back of her chair. “How about now?”

Her eyes, still cloudy, did seem to focus in on his face a little more. “It’s better, but …”

Eddie was honestly surprised she’d let him go this far, but he was more intrigued over the fact that she was playing along.

He leaned in closer, voice dropping. “How about now?”

She started at him with those wide, pale eyes and gulped. “Eddie,” she said, her voice hesitant, “I have to tell you something.”

This was it. This was the moment. “Yes, Patricia?” he whispered.

When she didn’t say anything, he leaned ever closer, going in for the kiss. He was nearly there, when her hand was on his chest, shoving him away. “You should really change your mouth wash, because your breath really stinks.”

It was probably for the best, he told himself miserably, not bothering to hide his disappointment. Not like she could see him anyway.

* * *

**_\- and the one time ..._ **

The fifth time was different. There were so many fewer secrets between them now, at least on his end. She knew who his father was; she knew that he liked her, and he knew that she liked him. He’d heard her say it, and no matter how much she denied it, it was pretty obvious, not that he’d been any more subtle.

But she was ignoring him, and her silence was deafening. He wasn’t going to push her. He was Eddie Miller, and Eddie Miller didn’t chase after people that didn’t want to be caught even if he really, really liked them. And he did like her—so much more than he could even properly express.

He would give her one last chance to confess, and then he’d leave her alone. Forever. It would be hard, but he was willing to do it if that was what she really wanted.

The door was already ajar when he knocked, and Patricia looked up at him silently. Eddie smiled awkwardly and let himself in. She stood up and met him halfway.

Time to lay it bare, he thought to himself. “This is my last attempt, Patricia,” he said—this wasn’t the time for nicknames. “Okay? I’ve apologized for not telling you about the secret.” She breathing changed, but Eddie wasn’t done. “I told you I liked you, which, y’know, was not easy for me” _—because Eddie didn’t get crushes, it wasn’t how he rolled. He flirted and moved on; didn’t get attached—_ “and I do genuinely believe that, deep down, you like me too.”

She looked down, the war on her face evident, but she still didn’t speak. She wouldn’t speak.

That was what really irked him about the whole thing: her refusing to respond. It was like his vulnerability meant nothing to her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed. “You’re killing me! What do I have to do to get a reaction?”

She looked back up at him, and something in her eyes changed. They weren’t hesitant, or frightened, or unfocused anymore—they were determined and strong, and suddenly she was surging forward. The hand on the back of his neck pulled him forward and their mouths collided in a kiss that spoke louder than anything she could have ever said.

It might have lasted for an hour or maybe a second, but when they pulled away, there was an understanding there. Forcefields had been lowered, walls knocked down, and neither one of them was afraid anymore.

“That’ll work,” he breathed, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Whoa!” Joy exclaimed from behind them and they jumped apart in surprise. “Walkin’ in here!”

“Good timing, Joy,” Eddie deadpanned, but he wasn’t upset. How could he be?

She grinned, eyes darting between them. “Correct!” she chirped, eyeing her best friend smugly. “You do know she’s contagious?”

Patricia immediately gestured to her throat and suddenly, everything made sense. “That’s why you haven’t been talking to me!”

It was probably for the best that Joy walked in then, he told himself, flashing a dopey grin at Patricia. As much as kissing her had been incredible, he’d rather not catch laryngitis.

Though, he mused, when Joy finally left them alone, he could probably risk it.


End file.
